Unattached
by Sigh Lence
Summary: Sherlock starts to realize that maybe he isn't unattached. John doesn't know why Sherlock hates all of his girlfriends. Johnlock fanfic!


**Note: This is my first fanfic so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. I'm just a strong Johnlock shipper (I will go down with the ship) so I hope I do this OTP justice with this story. I will continue this for sure, I'm not sure how many chapters it will have but I can assure you... there will be adorably adorable Johnlock romance :3 **

**Anyway! I hope you enjoy it ;)**

**-SL**

**Chapter 1**

"**Warmth"**

"Dammit John! I've had enough of this, we're done. I'm through with all of this!" the slender blonde yelled, picking up her coat and bag as she headed for the door of the apartment, 221B Baker St.

"Sophie, please!" the ex-army doctor begged, reaching out for her arm "I swear, I'll never cancel our plans again. Sherlock says this is really important and he needs me. I promise this is the last time."

"You say that every time. We're over, John."

"Sophie, I- "

"Save it for your boyfriend" she cut in, shooting a look at the curly haired detective sitting in the corner of the room, clearly amused by the scene "obviously you're more loyal to him than you are to me. We're done, don't bother calling me."

With that, she turned and went. After her loud footsteps had faded from the room, it was quiet except for the sound of the cab outside slowing to a stop and then the sound of an angry ex-girlfriend slamming the door and demanding to be taken back to her one bedroom apartment on the other side of London. Silence hung in the air for a long time before John sat down and rested his head in his hands, slowly rubbing his temples. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk.

"You know, I never liked that one anyway" he mused sarcastically, receiving a look of pure hatred from the clearly angry, and slightly annoyed doctor, who - leaning back into his chair - opened his mouth to speak and paused for a moment, as if he was thoroughly planning his response, then he spoke.

"You're a real arse, Sherlock. You know how much she meant to me, you _know _how much I cared about her. I asked for _one _night" he leaned forward again to emphasize his point as much as possible "I asked for _one night_ and you couldn't even give me that." Standing up from the chair he started for his room but of course, Sherlock needed to have the last word.

"Oh please, she was hardly anything to be proud of!"

"How would you know?" John spat, spinning around to look at him "tell me, Sherlock, how you would know what I should or shouldn't be proud of? You've never had a girlfriend. You've never even been in a relationship for that matter"

"No, I haven't but the chemistry behind it is rather simple you see- "

"Romance is not science! It's a bond, Sherlock! It's what you feel when you're with the one special person that makes you happy. It's not one of your rubbish experiments!" the ex-army doctor stopped and looked to the floor, softening his stance and resting on his good leg. After a few moments of tense silence between the two flatmates, John grabbed his coat and made for the door where he paused "I'm going out. I'll be back tonight". The dark haired man made no attempt to reply, John pursed his lips before making his way down the stairs out the door, into the street to try to flag down a cabbie. Sherlock immediately stood after the door slammed shut and watched the blonde through the window, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He'd never liked any of John's girlfriends, not that they were particularly horrible – although some of them were – it was mostly because when John was in a relationship he paid more attention to the girl and less attention to Sherlock.

_Not that it matters much anyway _he thought while watching John get into the cab and drive away, presumably to go to the nearest pub. He picked up his violin and began to play a few notes. _He's better off without her. _

It'd been nearly seven hours since John had left the flat and still the dark haired detective hadn't moved, except to get up and search for his gun that the military doctor had so expertly hidden. It took him three full minutes to find it but when he did he walked across the room and over the coffee table to the sofa and began to shoot the wall, spelling out the word 'BORED' with the bullets. After running out of ammunition, he grabbed his phone from table and began typing.

_How many drinks have you had? _

_-SH_

He sat back and waited for a reply, wondering if John was already snogging with another dimwitted girl. One that he would most likely hate; just like all the other ones. The thought made him angry, he hated how easy John was to trust people. He was always throwing himself at these women and was too busy being a lovestruck puppy to see that the feelings were obviously not reciprocated. When Sherlock brought attention to the fact that they were screwing around with other people or being unfaithful he wasn't trying to be rude, he was trying to protect him because that's what he did, John was the only friend Sherlock had. John was too good of a person to have his heart broken over and over by these women, so Sherlock was doing him a favour by keeping him single.

Just then his phone buzzed and lit up. Sherlock's hand was on the phone before the buzzing even stopped. He opened the message.

_**Iv onlyy had A cupple drinjs Sherlck.**_

The detective was quick to reply, slightly surprised by the response from the usually sober doctor.

_Come home, you're drunk._

_-SH_

_**Fine. Im stil madd at yuo though.**_

_I'm calling you a cab. _

_-SH_

About an hour later, a cab pulled up outside and out stumbled a very drunk John Watson. After climbing up the stairs and through the door he found himself faced with a very anxious looking Sherlock.

"What took so long?" he asked, eyeing him up and down, obviously not needing to be told what had happened because he'd already figured out that the drunken John had been in a fight with the bartender, fell in a puddle while getting into the cab and had been sobbing quite heavily. "Never mind, are you okay?" he asked, getting up to pull off the doctors coat who was rambling incoherently.

"Yes. I'm fine, it wasssonly a fewwdrinksss. Can you believvvvewhat they charge for drinkssssnow a dayss?"

Sherlock chuckled and removed the hiccuping blonde's coat. He wreaked of alcohol and he couldn't stand upright by himself. Sherlock had never seen him this drunk. With a big 'oomph' he fell into the detective's arms, who led him onto the sofa and sat down beside him. John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, only half-conscious.

"Shhhherlock" he began

"Yes, John?"

"I'mssssorry I yelled at you" he said, snuggling in closer before loosing consciousness completely.

"Me too." Sherlock sighed, putting his arm around the now passed out blonde, who looked incredibly vulnerable, and listened to his breathing. It was extremely peaceful and he found himself dosing off too. For once his mind wasn't full of deductions and data, he was only focused on how warm the doctor felt in his arms.


End file.
